


Time For Small Business

by karanguni



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/pseuds/karanguni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charname sneaked a peek up at the shop front. THE HAMSTER OF JUSTICE, read the signage in suspiciously good spelling. A smaller heading underneath it read YOU PAY, I PROVIDE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time For Small Business

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnotherRoad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherRoad/gifts).



> I've tried my best to keep Charname neutral by substituting an arbitrary choice of gendered pronouns with they/their. Feel free to magic them away to your mental Charname setup of choice!
> 
> Many thanks to #yuletide for suggesting some of the elements that pop up, and a particular thank you to AlterEgon for the beta. A most cracky approach, but I hope you enjoy this treat!
> 
> For ultra-geek referencing, here's a map of [Faerûn](http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/wd_maps/FRposterLarge_150.jpg).

Of all the ways for an adventuring career to end, this hadn't been the one that Charname'd been expecting. Assassination, definitely. Being overcome by a horde, maybe. Death by dragonfire? Yes, that too; it was just another recurring job hazard. But it was those sameself "job hazards," apparently, which Charname's patrons — and, more importantly, their agents of insurance — had problems with.  
  
'I'm sorry,' Lord Fierdan said to Charname with genuine apology colouring his voice. He was throwing Charname a feast in honour of their retirement from the business, and had gone to great lengths to make it a good one. 'It's just that, with your history and the credit system being what it is these days, no one will let me — or any other lord in Faerûn, for that matter — liquidate enough assets to back your ventures. Normally, we purchase a certain amount of insurance from one or another agency in order to cover your enormous, well...' Lord Fierdan paused awkwardly, groping for words. He tried again. 'Since you do charge a rather generous premium, payable before departure, it—'  
  
Charname desperately fished for a decanter of wine from the front of the table and filled both their goblets, putting Lord Fierdan and themselves out of mutually shared misery. A few sips later and Lord Fierdan regained himself. 'I do hope you understand.'  
  
'Of course,' Charname said, because Fierdan had been good to them for many years. He didn't need his head bitten off simply because no one else in the Faerûn wanted to be the one to break the news; he'd just drawn the shortest straw. And it wasn't like Charname was in dire need of the gold: adventuring was just what they *did* now; it was what they'd always done. Slaying monsters, saving townships, helping people. It had been a life calling, but now it was a firmly closed door. The latest title the cityfolk had appended to Charname's name was "The Uninsured," and they'd seen first-hand provisioners and headhunters scatter away upon sight. It was a black mark to carry on one's shoulders.  
  
Lord Fierdan must have noticed Charname's sudden bout of introspection. 'Well, think of it this way - you're now free to pursue other interests, eh? Start afresh, and at a fairly young age, too. You're not stuck with any noble rank — no properties to manage, peasants to feed — so why not head to Baldur's Gate or Athkatla and rough it out there for a while? Fortunes have been built there.'  
  
Athkatla, capital city of Amn: it'd been a while since Charname had been back near the merchantile roil of the Sword Coast and the grand cities of the Cloud Peaks region. That said, Charname still had many memories of the place, and many friends there. 'Why not?' Charname shrugged as they both raised their goblets in toast. 'To new beginnings!'  
  


* * *

  
  
As it turned out, starting up a new life in Amn was hardly the jaunty enterprise that Lord Fierdan had set it up to be. It had been a good half-decade since Charname's last visit to Athkatla, and longer still since they'd had reason for an extended stay in what was now known as the Athkatlian Metropolitan Region. In the last few years, a strong alliance had been built up along the Baldur's Gate-Beregost-Athkatla-Trademeet merchant route, and the roadways along the coast had become well-paved and (more importantly) fiercely defended in peacetime. The streets of the capital were more crowded than ever; with stability came an influx of new wealth that had seen entire new districts spring up, including a small but particularly vigorous section called Silicon's Alley.  
  
Charname had no idea who Silicon was or had been, but his Alley was teeming with a new breed of self-titled "adventupreneurs" who could provide the common man with anything from mages-for-hire and dragon slaying equipment to consulting services that promised to help new adventurers "be agile on any path."  
  
These people had entire shopfronts with sparkling glass windows boasting carefully curated displays of maps, magicks, and other marketing baubles. Charname's first thought for their new business had been of setting up some similar kind of shop, but a quick survey of the competition convinced them that gaining any sort of headway in this cut-throat industry was hopeless. Charname'd gone into one of the shops posing as an uninitiated traveller, and had been bombarded with the crazed optimism of a shopkeeper so young that he'd hardly had a whisker on his cheek advising them on any number of "incubator groups" where they could find "co-adventurers — 'party members' is really blasé terminology now, you know."  
  
Still, there had been some sort of fair in the Alley that day, so Charname'd gamely gone to take a look. They ended up signing up for a swordmaster position that looked as if it might take up some of their free time. A runner came to get Charname a half-hour later, and told them to head to the main tentage to meet the hiring employer for a skills assessment.  
  
It all seemed normal enough. There were three or four other candidates for the position who were standing around waiting, so they came together to go over the posting in finer detail.  
  
'"Ten years experience preferred"?' went one of them, pointing at the condition. 'Cor, how serious d'you think they are about that?'  
  
'I'm more concerned about the remuneration,' another person muttered. 'I've heard things about this organisation, I have. People talk, and they say the pay's peanuts.'  
  
'Ahem,' said a voice behind them. Charname and the others turned: it was the hiring master. He looked a magely sort – he had red robes and a pointy hat - and was carrying a thin volume and a quill. His voice was reedy and high. 'My name is Cirian, and I will be evaluating today's assessment. Please state your name and last occupation, then describe what you believe to be your qualifications for this position.' Cirian pointed his quill at Charname. 'You may be the one to begin.'  
  
'My name is Charname,' Charname said. 'I was last an adventurer.'  
  
There was a giggle from someone in the line. Cirian looked down the bridge of his nose at Charname. 'Very clever of you, Charname. What are your qualifications?'  
  
There were a few that Charname could list. They thought about it for a moment, then reconsidered. Instead, Charname reached for the familiar longsword at their side, and withdrew it from its sheath. It made a beautifully silky noise as it came forth, and the well-oiled blade glinted in the afternoon light. Its edge was horrifically sharp, but showed enough blemishes for the right audience to know that it was a _very_ well-used blade. Charname would be the first to admit that the scabbard was a little bit show-off-y, encrusted with rubies as it was, but the sword had seen a lot and deserved a decoration or two. It wasn't as though it was going to see much hard use now. The thought made Charname frown.  
  
Charname realised that no one had said anything for a while. The others in line had taken a step back.  
  
'Uh,' the hiring master said, quill frozen in hand and eyes fixed on the blade. 'I recognise that sword.' He cleared his throat and looked down hurriedly. 'I think you are _quite_ overqualified, my good person.'  
  
' _Over_ qualified?' Charname asked. They hadn't known there was such a thing.  
  
'We try to hire the right person for the right job,' Cirian said. 'Very often the lords we teach swordsmanship to don't actually like to be corrected, and I'm afraid that your reputation precedes you.'  
  
Charname narrowed their eyes, re-sheathing the sword. ' _What_ reputation?'  
  
'Next!' Cirian quickly called out.  
  


* * *

  
  
Charname strategically retreated to the far bosom of the Copper Coronet, where they put a decent effort into drowning their sorrows with ale. It was there that Jaheira found Charname, alone and face down in a greasy plate of tavern food.  
  
'So you're back,' the half-elf simply said to Charname, sliding into a seat next to them. She didn't sound the least bit surprised to find them there.  
  
'So I'm back,' Charname slurred.  
  
Jaheira nudged Charname's tankard out of arm's reach and into the graveyard where three other emptied ones lay. Charname was too sloshed to protest much. 'A little bird told me that you're now Charname The Uninsurable,' Jaheira said. 'Returned to Athkatla at long last to gaze upon the city's prosperity and to wonder your own fortunes.'  
  
Charname moaned and put a hand over their face.  
  
'Wasn't it about time you retired?' Jaheira went on, unsympathetic.  
  
'I never wanted to retire. There's nothing else for me,' Charname hiccupped sadly.  
  
'The rest of us have moved on handily enough; surely you didn't think that you were going to keep up your antics forever.'  
  
'I might very well live forever, remember?' Charname mumbled, face in their Bhaalspawn-y hands. The thought of an everlasting lifetime of _job hunting_ was horrifying.  
  
Jaheira clapped Charname on the back, which made them feel rather seasick. 'Come now, let's get you a room. We'll talk again when you are in better sorts.' She put Charname's arm over her shoulders and encouraged them to stand.  
  
'I feel that you've got some leftover desire to baby me just as Gorion did,' Charname mumbled accusingly as they swayed upright.  
  
'I feel you might be right,' Jaheira retorted. 'He did, after all, leave you in my care, and I intend to perform my duties to the letter. Come now. There's an old friend of ours whom I think you ought to visit tomorrow.'

 

* * *

  
  
The old friend Jaheira mentioned turned out to be Minsc. He'd apparently given up the punishing lifestyle of a berserker ranger in favour of becoming a small business owner. Whatever that meant.  
  
'What type of business, exactly?' Charname asked Jaheira, suspicious. Something had pinged them as unusual when the two of them had exited the Slums and taken a turn down a rather expensive part of the Bridge district. This was the sort of part of the city where plants were called "topiaries."  
  
Annoyingly enough, Jaheira stayed mum on the subject. 'You'll see. Here we are.'  
  
They stopped in front of a tidy but modest little shop bookending a posh street. The shop's doors opened. Out came Minsc, ushering a client cradling an injured but nevertheless vicious-looking bobcat in her arms.  
  
Minsc looked older than Charname remembered - there more wrinkles around the corners of his eyes - but was otherwise still quite unchanged.  
  
'I'm very sorry,' Minsc was saying to the client. 'But when cats mistake Boo for just a _hamster_ , they get what they try to give, eh?'  
  
The client, in the full hob-nob garb of the nobility and no doubt very rich, did not look very happy with Minsc's apology. 'Your hamster bit my precious Woo-woo on the nose during treatment. Look at how he shakes!' She stroked the cat's back soothingly. It purred, then sneezed, wrinkling a bandaged nose.  
  
'Is not simply a _hamster_ ,' Minsc said patiently. 'Boo is a _miniature giant space hamster_ ; respect must be shown.' He held out a small bag of salves to the client  
  
The client snatched the bag out of Minsc's hand. 'Very well, sir,' she huffed. 'I shall see you in two weeks' time for our next appointment.' She walked away.  
  
Minsc hadn't noticed them yet. Charname sneaked a peek up at the shop front. _THE HAMSTER OF JUSTICE_ , read the signage in suspiciously good spelling. A smaller heading underneath it read _YOU PAY, I PROVIDE._  
  
'Goddess save us all,' Charname muttered under their breath. 'I go away for five years, and now Minsc is running a _pet store_? This is what you wanted to show me?'  
  
'I’d hardly think that this is coming entirely as a surprise to you,' Jaheira said somewhat frostily. 'We are not all children of gods; some of us must live simple lives.' Then she added, more gently, 'He is very happy, you know. I think that he is the right person for you to talk to.'  
  


* * *

  
  
The tour of Minsc's little shop took a while. There was every domestic animal to be found, from guinea pigs to shepherd dogs, and some that Charname was sure had never been domesticated as well. Jaheira had run away at some point, claiming to be needed elsewhere. Traitor.  
  
'Are you selling these necklaces of protection as collars?' Charname asked as they fingered the frankly dazzling array of pet accessories.  
  
'Of course not!' Minsc bristled from where he was closing accounts at the front desk. 'That's only for owners.'  
  
'I see,' Charname said weakly. They glanced at the price tag. 'That's awfully expensive for something that just has a simple protection charm on it.'  
  
'Money does not grow on trees,' Minsc said sagely, punching in numbers at the till. 'How else to live in city? Not cheap.'  
  
'Usually I just take whatever gold is offered from people who give it to me. Or I took, anyway,' Charname said awkwardly. They could remember a time when Minsc couldn't count higher than the fingers of one hand. 'I've never used a till— is that a record book that you're _writing_ in?' they said, mystified, as Minsc heaved out a giant leather-bound volume from under the counter. Minsc could write? Charname hadn't known that Minsc could write.  
  
The book had some intimidating looking skulls adorning the front cover, what seemed to be a fairly vicious curse on the lock, and - gods above - not one nor two but three exploding runes inscribed in just the places that Charname could see. Minsc was opening it with a key that he kept around his neck and a few careful spoken Words.  
  
'That looks... well protected,' Charname said, now a little uncomfortable with Minsc's level of dedication to his work.  
  
Minsc beamed with pride. 'Curse good, no? Need for protect customer privat- privee-- customer stuff. Will lop off the hands of anyone who tries to open it without knowing how. Is why so much blood on the spine, but, oh well.' He shrugged a giant shoulder, then smiled in happy remembrance. 'Viconia and Edwin work together on it for me as shop starting present - only time I ever see them so happy together.'  
  
'Was this before Viconia left for Waterdeep?' Charname knew that Viconia had settled semi-permanently in that city the after suffering a spectacularly bad break of both her forearms. Spells had knitted the bones together, and Viconia had (or so Charname had heard) peeled off the face of the person who had done the deed, but she'd never regained as much mobility as she would have liked. She'd left the life of adventuring and moved on to apothecarial and clerical works.  
  
Charname'd dropped by Waterdark to see how she was doing — Waterdeep was certainly a more... accepting town than most, being above Skullport and in the shadow of Undermountain — and found Viconia running something that looked like a crossover between an apothecary and a bar three blocks away from a house rumoured to be Elminster's. Viconia'd called it _DEATH & PARTY_ and sold very expensive tonics that, by and large, first had to be blended with very expensive spirits before they were deemed healthsome. Her clientele, besides including the Masked and Unmasked Lords of Waterdeep, was rumoured to extend as far as Calimport and Unthalass. Charname had been given very ugly looks by some very fashionably dressed young individuals who had been attempting to casually not-loiter at _DEATH & PARTY_'s front door when Viconia had ushered Charname right past a frighteningly muscular half-orc bouncer and into the cavernous and atmospherically lit inside.  
  
'Right before, yes,' Minsc replied, drawing Charname's attention back to the present. He was caressing a particularly dire looking bloodstain with an expression of bliss on his face. 'But, is not the best line of defence, of course,' he said, straightening.  
  
'A curse _isn't_ your best protection against theft?' Charname raised their eyebrows.  
  
There was a squeak, and Boo crawled up out of -- no, no, Charname would leave off questions better left to wise sages. Boo simply emerged. 'Squeak,' Boo said. It began to groom its whiskers, which were stained disturbingly dark.  
  
'You go for the eyes, Boo, don't you?' Minsc said adoringly, running one finger down its back. 'Right for the eyes.' Then he turned to Charname. 'Jaheira say that you're looking for something to do. Need gold? Minsc would be happy to help with gold.'  
  
'No, I don't need the gold, but well, yes, I need something to do, since, well.' Charname stopped and took a deep breath. Career advice from Minsc. They supposed stranger things had happened. 'I've had to stop adventuring.'  
  
'No!' Minsc cried. 'But you are the best in the land! Armies have quaked before your butt-kicking self! What happened? It has been a long time since I picked up a sword, but I can still bring the force of justice onto the behinds of the evildoers who hurt my friends.'  
  
'Insurance,' Charname said, unable to prevent a small smile from crossing their face.  
  
'Oh,' Minsc said, deflating. 'Insurance, eh? That's an enemy Minsc cannot fight, not even for you.'  
  
'So I've come to learn,' Charname said.  
  
'You could work in pet store with Minsc,' Minsc offered. 'Pet store is best thing in the world.'  
  
Charname looked out at the store, with its stacked-to-the-brim shelves and constant murmur of quiet animal noises. It was nothing that they were used to: it wasn't the open road, the dark star-filled skies, the crackling tension of anticipating something new just round the corner. The shop was small and entirely normal; compared to Charname's old life, this was an existence that edged on the claustrophobic.  
  
'Thank you, Minsc, but I think I have to go looking,' Charname said, throat tight.  
  
Minsc covered their hand with his own enormous one. 'Looking for what?'  
  
'That's what I'm not sure of yet.'  
  
'Well, you always welcome here.'  
  


* * *

  
  
In a joint effort to help Charname "find the right path," Jaheira and Minsc arranged a meet up with yet another old ally of theirs. Edwin was the last person that Charname had been expecting, but Jaheira had assured Charname that it was all in the name of considering all (and she'd emphasized the word _all_ ) available options. Edwin was very verbal about his employment, at the very least.  
  
'You know, they told me I couldn't wear the girdle into the offices — they said that I wasn't being a good "role model" for the citizens,' Edwin sneered; he was two beers in and already sloppy. Not that Charname ever remembered him being particularly sharp, save when it came to his spells. They'd heard things about girdles and Edwin, and most of them were hilarious. 'Don't they know that I'm *evil*?'  
  
Jaheira and Minsc had rescued Edwin from the Government District that day; Edwin worked there now, and apparently was happy for any excuse to get away from the offices once eventime fell.  
  
("The Council of Six let him into the _Government_ District?"  
  
"You'd be amazed at what skillsets bureaucrats are looking out for on resumes these days, Charname," Jaheira said serenely.)  
  
The four of them adjourned to a tavern favoured by people of their ilk: big enough to accommodate every group in a different corner, dark enough for plausible deniability, and expensive enough to keep away the young wanna-be adventurers who came to gawk at the living legends of their time. Chances were pretty good that if you threw a stone across this particular tavern's main hall, it'd hit someone who forged a sword for someone who saved someone who knew Drizzit Do'urden back somewhen. A lot of people who didn't want to talk about themselves or their deeds came here to get pissingly drunk without fear of judgement.  
  
It'd been easy to settle into conversation after two or three rounds of the tavern's special brews. They'd collectively decided that the best way to ensure that a reunion like this was to go well was if everyone was well and truly sloshed: that way, no one'd be able to remember who threw the first punch. At first, Charname had thought it likely that it'd come down to that - after all, when they'd travelled together in the past it'd been like being in a circus of very-well armed ten year olds - but now they weren't so sure. Everyone had mellowed out some.  
  
Charname ordered everyone a round of port and a side plate of assorted sweetmeats for Boo, then dug their heels in and decided to get to the point. 'What is it that you actually do, Edwin?'  
  
'I,' Edwin declared, puffing up visibly, 'am part of the city's Investigative and Revelatory Services.'  
  
Jaheira snorted into her drink, which made Edwin glare at her witheringly.  
  
'You should find better job,' Minsc said sadly. 'Make people happy instead of sad.'  
  
'I happen to like my job, thank you very much,' Edwin retorted. 'What I don't like is happy people. Why should people be happy? What have they done to deserve it? Our investigations reveal so very little...'  
  
Charname blinked. 'I don't understand what it is you _do_. Mandated torture of some sort?'  
  
'Some may say it very well is,' Jaheira murmured.  
  
Edwin firmly ignored her and turned to Charname. 'I work for the IRS,' he grinned. His gold teeth glinted in the flickering candlelight as he tilted his head back and went at his ale. He had more now than Charname'd remembered him having.  
  
'The IR- what?'  
  
Edwin slammed his tankard down on the table and hiccupped. 'I am,' he slurred, patting Charname's shoulder with a much be-ringed hand, 'a tax collector.'  
  
'Ah,' Charname said, leaning back and sipping on their drink. It all made a lot of sense now. They delicately moved Edwin's hand off of their shoulder and replaced it firmly onto the tabletop. 'They pay you well?'  
  
'Too well...' Minsc muttered, giving Edwin the evil eye.  
  
'They don't pay me well at all!' Edwin shouted, attracting the stares of half the tavern. 'Sorry, sorry,' he muttered. He leaned into the small circle of their table and hissed, 'They pay me tremendously badly; don't ever work for government for that reason alone, let me tell you. But the benefits, the benefits. Free healing and disease removal,' Edwin winked at Jaheira, and just barely dodged the drink she threw at his face. 'You get all the free spellscrolls you could ever want, alchemical equipment and laboratory access, and unbelievable browsing permissions at the archives. What's more, I don't have to pay the fees for magical licensing in the city, and moreover I'm exempt from the import/export levies, which is,' Edwin sighed, thumping back in his seat, 'ultimately the only reason why Viconia married me, I've come to realise. Wench.' He gestured obnoxiously at a server. 'Wench! Come here! Give me more ale!'  
  
'You and Viconia,' Charname said very slowly, 'are married.'  
  
'Well,' Edwin said dismissively, waving a hand in front of him. 'I have certain, let us say, interests that need seeing to in Waterdeep, and she *certainly* has interests in Athkatla that are hardly less than what you'd call lucrative. But all the administrative dingle-dangle that comes with working the merchant routes between the two cities — god, did you know that the Fellowship of Carters  & Coachmen has practically got a monopoly share over the Sword Mountain Highway through to Neverwinter? that should be illegal and I'll make it so soon enough — anyway, the whole be-a-merchant career path just didn't seem appropriately rewarding.'  
  
'Career path?' Charname mouthed at Jaheira, who rolled her eyes.  
  
'And so,' Edwin blustered on impatiently, 'the two of us conducted a little research, and as it so turns out having someone in government can do wonders for an ambitious partnership. The paperwork otherwise is outrageous; there's no way you'd get goods from Icewind Dale down through to Memnon without getting gutted by tariffs. There are entry and exit laws in every port such that even Elminster would have trouble piecing it all together.' Edwin waggled his fingers; ten enormous gemstones winked back at Charname. 'So we signed the papers and got it done. Our marriage is legal, if sadly and unimaginably unconsummated. We never even had a honeymoon,' Edwin trailed off sadly.  
  
'Is because,' Minsc said, 'afterwards we would have needed funeral, too.'  
  
'More ale for everyone?' their server asked, coming round to the table just in the nick of time.  
  
'Yes,' they chorused. 'More ale.'  
  


* * *

  
  
'I realise I never asked,' Charname said to Jaheira as the four of them collectively stumbled out of the tavern a number of hours later, a many-headed beast with barely functioning legs. 'What do you do now with the Harpers, since you've stopped adven- adventuru- left the field?'  
  
Jaheira dumped Edwin, snoring, onto one of the waiting taxi-carriages outside the tavern. 'I work with the publications now,' she told Charname. 'Harpers' Magazine.' She reached for her pouch and withdrew a card that had her name and an address written on the back. 'Come into the office tomorrow; I shall show you around.'  
  


* * *

  
  
The office of Harpers' Magazine was housed in an imposing townhouse near the Docks, a stone's throw away from the Thieves' Guild. By the looks of their windows, which were much patched, Charname suspected that stones had been thrown between both buildings more than once.  
  
The air in the building hung low with the smell of inks and parchment. There was a constant hum that came from a printing press running in the basement floors. Stacks of past editions and outdated drafts were piled high on almost every one of the numerous tables which made up the newsroom floor, and writers scurried in and out of the office looking universally harried.  
  
Jaheira's desk was comparatively clear (she was one of the editors), but she did have a few special editions put up on display. Charname peered at one of them; something about the halfling on the cover looked awfully familiar. 'Wait,' they said in sudden recognition, 'is that Mazzy Fenton?'  
  
Jaheira took a look at the cover in question. 'Yes, that's Mazzy Fenton. She runs the Halflings And Others Rights Watch; they're a pan-religion and apolitical group working to serve the needs of the City's under-represented populations, in particular those whose constituents face egregious height or dimensional discrimination in either the workplace or halls of religion.'  
  
Jaheira saw the look on Charname's face. 'That's the spiel that their members give us every time we conduct an interview, at least. Their membership in Amn alone guarantees a few thousand subscriptions for us.'  
  
'Did Mazzy ever get knighted as a Paladin?' Charname asked, feeling a little shell-shocked to think that someone's face (much less Mazzy's) could now be printed by the thousands and distributed up and down the Sword Coast for reasons *other* being the target of an incredibly large bounty.  
  
'Oh, yes,' Jaheira smiled, sly. 'Three times, in fact, and by a variety of different Orders. They all had a rather abrupt change of heart after she raised a halfling strike five thousand strong that crippled the city's Town Crying and assorted service industries for a week and a half.'  
  
'Five thousand halflings? She managed to get five thousand halflings to agree on something?'  
  
'It was all very spontaneous. Ingenious organising scheme, actually — once Mazzy had one or two serious financial investors behind her, she posted a few signs which no one took seriously, then ordered a thousand carrier pigeons to deliver a call to strike. By the time a few hundred halflings had gathered on the streets, she didn't need those pigeons to spread the word anymore; others had got word, seen the posters, and just poured out in support. I think she ended up calling this the "Tweet Tweet Strategum," in honour of about 500 or so pigeons that were lost during the mayhem. She says she's looking to increase her PPP ratio next time, though,' Jaheira caught the look on incomprehension on Charname's face. 'PPP. That's People-Per-Pigeon, a way of measuring turnout when using avian media.'  
  
Charname sat down hard on one of the office chairs. Jaheira pushed a handsome pair of eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose. 'Well, I've got to get back to editing, but feel free to roam about. You might also head to the University. They've many counsellors there who could help advise you on potential paths.'  
  
'Like Gorion?' Gods, please like Gorion.  
  
Jaheira cocked her head to the side. 'Well,' she said. '*Somewhat* like Gorion. At the very least, the University can help you learn new skills if you do not wish to engage the not inconsiderable ones already in your possession.'  
  
Charname recalled their visit to Silicon's Alley. 'No,' they said firmly. 'I think I want to try my hand something altogether new.'  
  
'Writing wouldn't happen to be an option, would it?' Jaheira asked. 'You needn't be a Harper to write for the Magazine. Your voice would certainly be a welcome addition to the weekend column.'  
  
Charname shot a glance at the noisy newsroom floor, where a delivery elf was depositing roll upon roll of parchment upon the desks of what were presumably Jaheira's feverishly writing minions. 'No, thank you; it'll be the University for me, I suspect,' Charname said as politely as they were able to, considering that they felt lost and quite at rope's end now.  
  


 

* * *

  
  
Charname was immediate met by a staff member upon entering the Prospectus Hall of the great University of Amn. The staff member, an insipid looking fellow, placed an enormous stack of delicately inked papers in front of them with great care. 'Have a looksee, Charname, and I'll be getting you an appointment with one of the counsellors,' he told them, offering to take their coat with an inappropriate amount of genuflecting.  
  
'But I didn't even tell you my name,' Charname objected as their coat was more or less dragged from their shoulders. 'How do you know who I am?'  
  
The staff member winked. 'Oh, everybody knows who *you* are around these parts. And this is a *very* nice coat, if you don't mind me saying. Accentuates your figure, it does. Did you get it vanquishing enemy forces?'  
  
'I bought it,' Charname said coolly. 'For 10 gold off a street merchant.'  
  
'Coo,' the staff member said, running a hand along the fabric. 'Must've been a most horrid street merchant, eh? Did you cast a spell to get him to sell it to you on the cheap?'  
  
'Yes,' Charname said, giving up. 'A most cunning spell. It took ages to prepare.'  
  
'Now ain't that something,' said the staff member approvingly. 'Just like in the stories.' He then finally left Charname in peace in order to go hang up the coat.  
  
Charname looked down at what turned out to be the college's bulletin. The parchment was tip-top stuff, and the calligraphy exquisite. It advertised a comprehensive list of specialisations and lectures offered at the University. Some of them, upon closer inspection, were called things like "How To Negotiate With Dragons and Win" (Department: Sociology) and "Introduction To Bard Skills I" (Department: Anthropology).  
  
Charname couldn't help but have a bad feeling about this. The papers were too neat. The staff were too helpful. There was too much gold filigree and fake fluting on the walls. Nothing with too much filigree and fluting had ever ended well for Charname.  
  
But there was nothing else that Charname knew to do - the city had changed, even if they hadn't, and the only thing left to do was to learn everything afresh.  
  
Charname had faced dragons, negotiated (violently) with them and won, but the walk to the counsellor's office still felt like it took a long mile. The counsellor assigned to Charname ("DOCTOR YLLAATRIS") wore thick, heavy academic robes and had a magically cooled office.  
  
'Welcome, welcome,' Yllaatris said, beckoning for Charname to take a seat in front of his desk. 'I've heard much about you.'  
  
'Really,' Charname said flatly. It occurred to them for the first time that people might've heard rather different tales than the ones Charname knew to be true.  
  
'Yes, and let me tell you now that it would be an _honour_ beyond all imagination for the University to have you as one of our students. I have it on good word from upstairs that your admission would be… highly likely.' The counsellor winked at Charname. Charname blinked back. 'Of course,' he went on, 'there are some endorsements we might like you to make during your future time here, should you choose to join us, but no matter. You're here to be guided. Let me guide you.'  
  
'I don't quite know where to start,' said Charname honestly. What was there to lose by telling the truth? There really didn't seem to any easy advice in the Bulletin on how to transition from "adventurer and spawn of the God of Murder" to "a fulfilling professional career." 'I want to move away from the whole...' Charname made a sword swinging motion. 'You know.'  
  
'I understand, though it's such a pity,' Yllaatris said. 'Your experiences in certain fields would cancel out so very many pre-requisites for the advanced seminars, but I don't suppose you're interested in specialising in Transdimensional Affairs… Or are you?' he said, hopefully.  
  
'No,' Charname said firmly. Just, no.  
  
'Very well,' the counsellor sighed. 'Let me fill you in instead of the general form of the education we provide; it's the same across all studies. We are the highest-rank institution of Magical and Mortal KnowledgeTM in Faerûn; our academics are unparalleled. In terms of finance, we charge 10,000 gold a semester, so that'll come up to 20,000 gold in academic fees per annum, with allowance of perhaps 500 more pieces for administrativia. If you don't have accommodations in the capital, we would be happy to place you within University's housing, where you'll get to meet many of different races and experience first-hand what it's like to be in a multi-class, cosmopolitan institution of great diversity.' He smiled across the table at Charname; smiled a little too enthusiastically.  
  
20,000 gold a year; Charname could buy shares to half a Keep with that. Morbid curiosity made them ask, 'How much would that be, additionally?'  
  
'Oh, a mere 4,000 gold per semester,' the officer said. 'A pittance, considering the fee includes access to an excellent dining mess in each Hall, scribe services, and so on. The average age of our housed students and apprentices is, admittedly, quite young, but I assure you that they only set fire to the kitchenettes very infrequently— beg pardon, are you leaving already? But I haven't gone over our enrolment policies yet, and they're quite intricate-!'  
  
'Hey there!' the staff member who'd greeted Charname called out to him as they flew past the front desk, headed for the entranceway. 'What about your coat? The one you cursed a merchant for?'  
  
'Keep it!' Charname yelled back, and fled.  
  


* * *

  
  
Minsc found Charname in his shop at the break of dawn the next morning. The shop's front lock had been expertly jigged open, and all the traps around it masterfully disarmed. It was beautiful sight to see, and brought a nostalgic smile to Minsc's face.  
  
Charname was in the back, determinedly yanking on one of the spare HAMSTER OF JUSTICE tunics that Minsc kept around for when he needed extra help.  
  
'I'm ready to start,' Charname said when Minsc came in. 'Give me customers, make me sweep the floor; I don't care what work you give me to do. At least you're happy, and sane.'  
  
'Not sure about sane. But Minsc is happy, and pet store is best,' Minsc agreed, beaming and patting Charname on the back. 'Who know? Minsc show you how to be happy, too.'  
  
Boo scrambled over to perch delicately on Charname's shoulder. 'Squeak,' Boo said, wisely, then hopped down onto the till, which opened with a loud _cha-chink_.

**Author's Note:**

>   * Viconia's bar shamelessly inspired by the very real [DEATH + COMPANY](http://www.deathandcompany.com/) in NYC
>   * Agile/lean startup [lingo](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lean_Startup)
> 



End file.
